Uncharted Waters
by The Vanishing Rum
Summary: Takes place at the very end of Dead Man's Chest in Tia Dalma's hut. New emotions are examined as the characters now find themselves in unfamiliar territory. No obvious pairings at the moment but strong Barbossabeth implications. Please R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or any characters belong to POTC. This is just the result of an over-active imagination and a vile desire against writing anymore graduate essays.

Elizabeth gaped and gripped the worn wooden table in front of her as though it were a life raft. Was it really Barbossa? After all this time, was it truly possible that he was _alive? _On a moment's reflection she supposed that it was not half as astounding as the events she had already witnessed. Compared to the monstrous Kraken and Davy Jones' crew of random miscreants bearing down on her on that god-forsaken island (wondering again what it was with her and islands), she realized that the appearance of the vivacious Captain she had assumed to be long dead and gone was by no means an occurrence outside the realm of a rather fanciful reality in which she now found herself.

Captain Barbossa strode down the steps of Tai Dalma's hut with an air of arrogance and understated superciliousness, as though he, of all mortals, should be expected and welcomed into the grey disheartened group of fledging pirates needing his guidance. Jack the monkey perched obediently on his shoulder as he paused at the bottom of the stairs to survey the motley gathering before him.

"So," he began, tearing into a juicy green apple he'd been saving for some time, "can anyone tell me what's become of me ship?'

Silence. Elizabeth glanced at Will, who promptly studied the opposite wall as though it held the answers to the meaning of life. Tia Dalma remained quiet, watching the scene unfold before her. Pintel swallowed his nerve and finally spoke, his voice unsteady.

"Well, ya see Cap'n, the Black Pearl she…she's gone to a different place now."

Barboss eyed Pintel suspiciously. "Aye...and what d'ya mean when ya say a different place?"

"Um…" Pintel looked at Ragetti who blinked his wooden eye too rapidly. "She's not…she's gone…Jack Sparrow…"

"Jack Sparrow?" murmured Barbossa at the same time that Elizabeth instinctively blurted out "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow." And then more softly, "Bloody hell, get it right."

The resurrected captain gave the governor's daughter a bemused glance. "Ah, yes…Captain Jack Sparrow. As I recall, it was 'e who started this whole business. Now young Missy, y're not to be tellin' me that Jack's run off with the ship of a man 'e murdered in cold blood?"

"It wasn't in cold blood." Will's virtuous voice rang out clear and sharp. "You tried to kill Elizabeth."

Barbossa waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't be getting' dramatic on me, boy. As ye can see for yerself, Miss Swann has suffered no permanent damage, per se…" His deep cerulean blue eyes locked on Elizabeth's for one brief moment, a small knowing smirk on his lips revealing thoughts no words would dare utter.

Inwardly Elizabeth drew a sharp breath and forced her eyes to meet his gaze, silently praying that the growing heat she felt spreading over her face was not the result of a confessional blush. The audacity of the Captain's implication, whether realized by the rest of the group or not, was beyond inappropriate and completely ungentlemanly although in truth he _was_ a pirate and had been dead for quite a while; no doubt he felt that he needed to make up for lost time and perhaps more importantly, lost opportunities. And yet, despite her indignation, Elizabeth could not deny the small twinge of excitement in her stomach when Barbossa looked at her. The _way_ he looked at her. Will never looked at her like that.

"Indeed, Captain," she replied coldly. _Please don't let me voice betray me,_ she thought urgently. "No thanks to your grand hospitality after you realized I was of no use to you anymore."

Barbossa chuckled at her reply and slowly moved towards the table. He had not missed the redness in her cheeks and it pleased him. "'Twas yer own idea to board me ship and give me the whelp's name, missy. Yer blood would 'ave been spilt by yer own dishonest hand."

Elizabeth was about to retort that her blood _had_ been spilled; she glanced at the now fading scar on her palm that Will had lovingly bandaged after rescuing her. But the memory of her deceitful cunning at the mast with Jack Sparrow was still fresh in her mind, and it cut short any comment. It weighed heavily on her conscience, combined with the guilt of not confiding in Will the reasons for her actions. When had she become so untrusting? Since the Kraken had taken their ship, they had barely spoken two words to each other and the tension grew thicker every day.

Will glanced between his fiancé and the older captain, wondering at their exchange. His anger flared at the way Barbossa's eyes strayed over Elizabeth's sea-infused hair and pink wind-burnt cheeks but he knew better than to interject; he was being baited and it would do no good to protest anyways. He would only look like a fool, much of how he was feeling at the moment. If only he could _talk _to Elizabeth then they could close the chasm of silence separating them. But the image, burned into his mind, of his beloved fiance locked in a passionate embrace with a man who, as far as Will could tell, had no sincere emotions for anyone save himself, closed up his throat in anger and disbelief. Was that really the Elizabeth he loved? Had she forsaken the woman who had captured his heart so many years ago? Will did not know if he could still love this new woman...or ever stop loving her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**** I claim no ownership over these characters, just the compromising positions I put them in. :)**

"Enough." Tia Dalma's silky drawl abruptly pulled Will from his melancholy. Immediately everyone turned towards the strange woman whose very presence demanded extreme respect and deference. Pintel and Ragetti quickly stopped examining some strange artifact they had found lying on the floor, a small marble spinning top with foreign characters carved carefully into each of the four sides. Gibbs put down the bottle of rum he'd been quietly nursing ever since they had stepped into the sorceress's hut. Barbossa took up position against a nearby wall and leaned his broad shoulders lazily against the damp wood, almost reluctantly drawing his gaze away from Elizabeth who had firmly refused to break eye contact first. He was content to see that in his absence she had not lost any of her spirited temperament.

Tia Dalma stood at the head of the table. Dark dreads hung still in front of her black cold fathomless eyes, her full shadowy lips drawn austerely together. "We is not 'ere to discuss de past. We is together so as to rescue him th' now wanders de desolate plains of Davy Jones' Lock'r. Jack Sparrow needs ye 'elp…an' ye cannot stand agains' d'ose who means to destroy ye without him hands at ye sides."

_Hands._ Unconsciously Elizabeth's hand went to her cheek in remembrance of Jack's embrace. The way he had gently caressed her hips and back, run his long fingers through her salty hair. The pungent taste of his lips; it had been like kissing a cresting wave. His raw passion for her had been palpable. She had felt it in his body through her clothes, seen it in his deep inexplicable gaze. There had been openness in those eyes, an acceptance and guarded sincerity that had risen from someplace dark and hidden. In the moments before she had sealed his fate, Elizabeth had witnessed Jack's _innocence_.

"Elizabeth?" Will's quiet voice broke through her reverie. She had suddenly gone very pale.

Tia Dalma paused in her speech and glanced at the younger woman. Her face remained impassive but she knew of the agony that twisted itself around Elizabeth's heart and mind. There was plainly much more to the story of Jack and the Kraken than what she had originally been told, and it appeared that Miss Swann had played more than a supporting role in the terrible event. Perhaps she had underestimated the young lady of society from Port Royal. Could it be that Elizabeth, after gallivanting across the Caribbean seas and battling creatures both human and other, had finally succumbed to the pirate way of life? The idea gave Tia Dalma reason to smile.

"I'm fine." Elizabeth tried to hide the quiver in her voice. "I just need…a bit of fresh air. Would anyone mind if I stepped outside for a moment?" The room was a bit warm and muggy with everyone clustered together inside the small space, although her one pressing desire at the moment was to garner some alone time for her turbulent thoughts.

Tia Dalma's response was only a curt nod. Gratefully Elizabeth rose, offering her what she hoped was a sincere smile that belied a rising sense of anxiety and unease. _Keep it together, Elizabeth. You can't break down in front of these pirates…in front of Will. _

She was almost to the door when the rough voice of Barbossa suddenly broke the thick silence of her departure. "Where be ye gents' sense o' decency? A lady should not 'ave to brave the dark night without prop'r comp'ny."

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and waited for someone to notice the multiple levels of irony behind his words. After her behavior at the mast (not to mention various other locations and dates), she doubted anyone considered her a lady anymore. _She_ didn't even think of herself as a lady. And after her past trials and tribulations, she didn't suspect that the night held any danger she couldn't handle.

Behind her no one voiced an objection to the Captain's suggestion. Pintel and Ragetti simply looked at each other a little confusedly and Will imagined that his company was the least desired of all. She hadn't even looked at him when he had spoken her name. Gibbs just took another swig of his increasingly tasteless rum.

"Aye, indeed." With a slight shake of his head, Barbossa pushed himself off from the wall. "Looks like it'll be me who's t' be the gentleman 'round 'ere." He narrowed his eyes and gave Will a severe look. Why was not the whelp jumping up to attend to his damsel in obvious distress? The last time he had seen him, the boy had been willing to throw himself in front of a sword (and worse) for the sake of Elizabeth's comfort and safety. It was clear that he still care very much for her, that much was apparent even to the likes of a man recently raised from the dead. Something had happened during his time away from the living, something so devastating that it threatened to tear apart the young couple before him. Somewhere along the line the rules had changed, and he suspected that Jack Sparrow was heavily involved in it. A quick glance at Elizabeth confirmed his intuition; she held all the answers.

Barbossa started towards Elizabeth just as she turned to face him. "Really Captain, it's not necessary. I thank you for your thoughtfulness but I will be perfectly safe. I'll only be right outside the door." His intrusion had blindsided her. She was unsure as how to best handle his offer and so settled on polite formality. _Well done, Elizabeth. That worked out well for you last time, didn't it? _

"There be plenty o' monsters hidin' in these here waters, missy. I wouldn' want the poor whelp to 'ave t' send out 'nother search an' rescue party fer ye. T'would be quite difficult seein' as 'e don' 'ave a ship t' sail." He glared accusingly at the former members of his infernal crew.

"I can take care of myself," Elizabeth snapped before she had a chance to quell her sudden anger. "I don't need you or anyone else chaperoning my actions, especially in this god-forsaken swampland." _To hell with propriety. He's a bloody pirate. One who's supposed to be dead. _Without further ado she spun on her heel and, in a very unladylike manner, stormed outside. Should the now-mortal Captain wish to follow her, so be it. At the moment she could not guess his intentions for wanting to join her, but it would make no difference. She was not much in the mood for talking and she hoped her silence would sufficiently bore him into wanting to return inside to more agreeable company.

_Good gods, the woman is practically seething with fury. _Elizabeth's reply had taken Barbossa aback. Of course he expected a sharp response, perhaps some sarcasm, but the vehemence in her voice was something he had not yet experienced. But it was not a totally unpleasant experience; in whatever manifestation her fiery character showed itself, it had never failed to stir something primal within him. He had always been rather fond of strong-willed women.

Quickly he regained his composure and addressed the room. "I be beggin' ye pardon gents…" He glanced at Tia Dalma. "An' lady…but it appears tha' Miss Swan is in a state o' displeasure. I'll be goin' outside t' make sure she don' do somethin' foolish in 'er upset condition. Ye never can trust women when they've gone off an' lost their 'ead." He threw a slight apologetic smile to Tia Dalma as he strode after Elizabeth. Will looked after him, the longing in his eyes to run after his beloved more painful than any mortal wound. His soft sigh was lost as the door shut firmly behind Barbossa's vanishing figure.

Outside, Barbossa squinted in the blanketing darkness. The flame lamps attached to Tia Dalm's hut provided weak light and it was a moment or two before he spotted her slim silhouette poised unmoving at the water's edge. He heard no sound except for her light breathing. Upon abrupt reflection, Barbossa realized that he ultimately had no reason for following her. True, he wanted answers to the events that had transpired while he had been trapped in Death's embrace; he wanted to know the whereabouts of his ship and the reason for Jack Sparrow's absence at this impromptu gathering. He was more curious than he allowed himself to recognize for the tension between Will and Elizabeth. But he knew that all of those answers he would learn later in time, if not that night. They were important but not to the extent that they demanded that he rush after a woman he had once captured, threatened, and harmed. A girl, really. At times he had to remember that she was not actually as old as she played herself to be.

Slowly Barbossa made his way towards her, being careful to keep his balance in the marshy ground. It was impossible that Elizabeth didn't hear him approach but she made no acknowledgement of his presence. He spoke softly into the darkness, his drawl smooth and oddly melodious. "Miss Swan, permit me t' ask ye a small question. On tha' fateful day a' Por' Royal, how was it tha' ye knew tha' we were there fer Aztec gold?"

_Thank you to everyone for your reviews! This is my first fan fic and I'd really appreciate any comments, praising or constructive. Not quite sure where it's going, I'm just having a bit of fun writing it. _

_Amymimi: Thank you for pointing out the discrepancy in Barbossa's eye color. It totally slipped my mind. _


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